


ILU

by thecarlysutra



Category: Thunderheart (1992)
Genre: M/M, Sexting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-17
Updated: 2012-05-17
Packaged: 2017-11-05 13:12:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 509
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/406794
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thecarlysutra/pseuds/thecarlysutra
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>SUMMARY: Futurefic. From formanymiles’s prompt: crow horse discovers sexting after they both get new phones with full keyboards!!</p>
            </blockquote>





	ILU

  
One of the perks—or punishments—of being in law enforcement meant being the first to get all sorts of new technologies. Cell phones were fine—they were damned useful, in fact. Ray liked always having a way to find Crow Horse; it was comforting even when he didn’t need anything particular. 

Ray had done enough nagging of government offices that Bear Creek was no longer last in line for everything, tax dollar-wise; after a few years of his pestering, they got the idea, and he no longer had to go begging. Which is how he ended up in his current predicament.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with our old phones,” Ray said. He watched Crow Horse open the newest delivery from the FBI office in Rapid, throwing aside all sorts of wasteful, non-biodegradable packaging.

Crow Horse tilted his head as he removed the device from the box. He turned it over in his hands, then flipped the top up, splitting the thing like opening a hot dog bun.

“Shit,” he said. “It’s got a little typewriter.”

Ray’s nose wrinkled. “What for? A phone is for making phone calls.”

Crow Horse chuckled. “Texting, Ray. You can send little messages without having to ring someone up. Like an email, kinda.”

Ray didn’t much care for email, either. “Texting,” he repeated.

“That’s what the kids call it,” Crow Horse said decisively, and Ray fought the urge to roll his eyes.

***

The new phone didn’t have rings that sounded like phones. Ray fought the urge to throw it out his cruiser window every time it trilled with its fake, electronic-sounding chirping. And it beeped. Every time he got one of those “texts,” it made a sound like the smoke alarm.

This fucking thing.

Ray rubbed his eyes; after a few hours sitting on a speed trap, the world got kind of blurry. The phone made its smoke alarm noise, and Ray gritted his teeth and picked it up, looked at the illuminated screen.

CROW HORSE  
what r u wearing?

Ray sighed. He poked laboriously at the keys until he’d composed an answer.

RAY  
fuck off

CROW HORSE  
u spelled “nothing” wrong

RAY  
shouldn’t you be sheriffing?

CROW HORSE  
take off your pants

Ray rolled his eyes, and threw the phone into the passenger seat. He focused on the radar, on the empty expanse of road before him.

The phone trilled. And chirped. And whined.

Finally, Ray sighed and picked up the damn thing.

CROW HORSE  
come on honey  
you know these phones got cameras?  
take a picture for me  
somethin hot  
raymond  
you cant ifnore me  
ignore  
raymond  
raymond  
RAYMOND

Ray ran his tongue over his teeth. He spent a moment puzzling over the camera, finally managing to send Crow Horse a picture of him flipping the bird.

Ray smiled, self-satisfied. For about ten seconds, until the phone beeped again.

CROW HORSE  
don’t tease me now honey  
also  
you mean to send that to your whole address book?  
cuz thats what you did

Ray massaged the bridge of his nose. Fucking technology.  



End file.
